Blue
by RichelleBrinkley
Summary: She liked to think that she knew him; maybe even better than he knew himself.


**Title: **Blue

**Author: **RichelleBrinkley

**Word Count: **2,646

**Rating:** T

**AN: **It's probably weird reading this story when it's written by someone with the penname RichelleBrinkley. Sorry. Even I'm finding it really strange and awkward.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Raven Hill Mysteries/Teen Power Inc., it belongs to Emily Rodda.

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She liked to think that she knew him; maybe even better than he knew himself.

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She'd met him when they were both at the ripe age of twelve; his cool, smug demeanour present even then – her spellbinding beauty abundantly clear despite her young age.

Their very first meeting happened on a slow, dreary Tuesday morning during first period classes at Raven Hill High. There was no clichéd dropping of books, accidental run-ins or lingering gazes across hallways.

Instead, she comes across him in an empty classroom as she wanders vacantly down the corridor, dawdling despite the bell for classes to commence having rung a good half hour ago.

But if it's one thing Richelle doesn't mind doing, it's skipping class.

Class always bores her, the fidgety students, chalk dust clouding the air and endless droning from teachers. What is the use of trigonometry to her if she is going to become a famous film star or model?

She trudges slowly down the corridor, her mind only semi-focused on an array of topics fuzzy in her mind. They range from the errands she has to run for her mother after school finishes and the lovely blue dress she wants to buy from the mall (blue brings out the colour of her eyes).

She is careful to make her footsteps quiet as she walks in the general direction of the school's back entrance, glancing routinely into classrooms at the possibility of seeing Liz.

This is how she meets Nick Kontellis; she catches sight of him in an empty classroom, lounging gracefully on the padded chair behind the teacher's desk. He balances the wooden legs of the chair precariously – two on the ground, two off the ground.

The first thing she notices about him – the _only_ reason she actually notices him – is the tastefully expensive polo shirt he is wearing, a Tommy Hilfiger design she recognises instantly. But once her eyes flicker to his dark, carefully gelled hair and his handsome, (although slightly arrogant) features, her gaze does not stray away.

The first time he looks at her: dark eyes and unsmiling expression –the air of someone who thinks themself to be above everyone else – she knows almost instantly that he is like her. A tall flower amongst a garden of weeds, more beautiful than all of the rest, with brighter possibilities and wider opportunities.

Richelle wants to know him. Finally, she thinks she may have found someone akin to her. Someone to relate to.

She approaches him with a smile.

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Her friend Liz starts Teen Power Inc. when they are fifteen, and Richelle, Nick, Liz, Sunny, Tom and Elmo spend an entire year running around trying to solve mysteries, sticking their noses into other people's business. Richelle complains almost every step of the way, and she is complained about almost just as much; people might think her to be stupid, but she knows well enough how to tell when people are talking about her behind her back.

Only Nick shows sympathy to her at all, although sometimes she isn't quite sure whether or not he is just comforting her because he is her best friend, and that is what best friends do.

But she appreciates it nevertheless, his soothing words and gentle reassurances every time one of their friends throws a quip at her that is slightly too harsh or hits a little too close to home.

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They go out a lot, the two of them. Usually it is just for coffee and the odd croissant at the Black Cat, but sometimes on special occasions such as the when they come to the end of another mystery, she and Nick will go someplace more extravagant to celebrate.

She becomes so used to their meals together that one summer, when he goes off on vacation to Greece, she finds herself momentarily surprised when she realises that she has no one to share a buttery pastry with whilst debating the latest Bond movie or celebrity scandal.

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Richelle's sixteenth birthday sees her stunning in a short gold dress, the dim lighting nowhere near enough to hide her ardent beauty.

Her parents let her borrow the house to throw a party, although not before hiding the key to their liquor cabinet and packing away all the valuables. They disappear for the night with Tiffany and Jason in tow, making her promise to "make good choices".

It is a great night, the music upbeat and the food delicious.

Richelle almost forgives herself for getting blind drunk.

Whilst the rest of her friends are dancing and laughing, she stumbles up the stairs to her bathroom, gripping the railing white-knuckled to keep herself steady. Her stomach churns with the combination of too much greasy food and cheap alcohol, and she barely makes it to the toilet before she is heaving up the contents of her stomach, throat burning and eyes streaming.

Afterwards, she brushes her teeth furiously and stares at herself in the mirror, wiping her running mascara off her cheeks and trying to quell the feeling of shame as she recounts how many drinks she'd had.

That is how Nick finds her, smoothing the tangles in her hair and shakily applying a fresh coat of lip-gloss. He doesn't ask her why her eyes are bloodshot – he already knows. Instead, he gently wipes away the last of her tears, pressing a soft kiss to her temple before leading her by the arm back downstairs for her birthday cake.

It is past midnight by the time the party ends and everyone has reluctantly trickled home.

Nick stays, helping her pick up the scattered cups and bottle caps. They work in silence, the two of them, too tired from the partying to make much conversation.

At the end of the night, he takes her aside and hands her a small box wrapped in gold paper, a red ribbon tied firmly into a perfect bow on the top.

His fingers clasp the necklace, a simple gold "R" around her neck, and she vows never to take it off.

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Teen Power Inc. go their separate ways halfway through their senior year, the pressure of teachers and parents forcing them to use their spare time for academic purposes rather than earning money.

After the group's dissipation, Richelle never really speaks to Sunny, Elmo or Tom ever again.

She can't really say that it bothers her.

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Meetings with Nick become less frequent. Their senior year sees them share no classes or lunch breaks together at school, and with the added commitments of her ballet lessons and his studies, they barely find time to see each other over the quickly-passing weeks. Coffee after school quickly becomes a thing of the past after one missed date turns into two, two turns into four, and eventually when they go for a month without a word to each other, Richelle and Nick stop trying to meet up. Maybe it is time they move on from their friendship.

However, one dreary afternoon in mid-July, Richelle finds Nick sitting cross-legged amongst the wattle flowers and eucalyptus trees of the long-forgotten Glen, twisting the stem of a dandelion between his fingers.

She hadn't meant to run into him again, not after their unacknowledged but mutual abandonment of their friendship.

Sitting down beside him on the carpet of gum leaves and tall grass, she neglects to glance in his direction, instead keeping her eyes firmly focused on the ground in front of her.

Silence stretches between them, thick and suffocating. For the first time since she'd met him, Richelle doesn't know what to say to him anymore. It has been almost four months since they'd last talked.

Once upon a time, she'd liked to have thought that she'd known him; maybe even better than he'd known himself.

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They graduate at the end of October, red robes and tasselled caps and all.

She feels a slight pang in her chest when she hears his name being called out, sees him walk coolly up to collect his diploma.

It strikes her that she doesn't want this to be her last memory of him.

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She doesn't see him properly again until the annual fête Raven Hill High holds every year to raise money for new sports equipment or graffiti removal or whatnot for the school.

It is stupid really, how they reconnect.

Liz, always a fan of helping out in the community, signs herself up for the handicrafts stall, where she would be spending (wasting) time teaching young kids how to sew finger puppets or something equally as useless in Richelle's opinion.

Liz signs Sunny up to referee the egg-and-spoon races. Even Sunny, usually so calm and collected, protests furiously when she hears of this ridiculous decision. Richelle can see her gritting her teeth as the obnoxious high school boys crack egg after egg onto the already-gooey asphalt, not even bothering to balance them on the spoons.

Liz, continuing in her absurd act of "helping the community" signs Richelle up to man the... Kissing Booth.

And she'd thought that Sunny's job was bad.

She screams (quietly, she didn't want to cause a scene) at Liz for a good ten minutes when she hears of this, because _Kissing Booth, really?_ Doesn't Liz know that whoever mans the Kissing Booth is almost guaranteed to end up with mono the next day? Or something even worse?

Richelle flat out refuses to offer her "services".

Instead, she spends the better part of her day wandering around the fête, buying the occasional cotton candy stick or hot dog to nibble on.

Tom at the art stall offers to draw her portrait, but when he grins wickedly at her and reaches for the red paint, she huffs and glares haughtily at him before quickly moving away to the ring-toss stall.

Liz finally comes up to her at five O' clock, half an hour before the fête is scheduled to finish up for the day.

Richelle is dragged back to her place at the Kissing Booth, the only thing stopping her from kicking and screaming being that it would draw too much of a scene, and that would be embarrassing.

Liz glares at her before making her way over to the popcorn cart a few metres opposite, her eyes still firmly fixed on the Kissing Booth.

Richelle sighs and pointedly looks down at her nails, frowning at new chips in the glossy pink polish.

She suddenly becomes aware that someone has approached her booth when a hand holding a hundred dollar note is thrust into her view.

Following the arm upwards, she finds herself staring into the unfathomable gaze of none other than her once-best friend, Nick Kontellis.

He slowly raises an eyebrow as she continues to stare, gesturing for her to take the money.

One kiss was one dollar. That meant that with a hundred dollars...

"Nick, I am _not_ giving you a hundred kisses."

He grins deviously at her, and Richelle feels her heart beginning to pound faster.

Nick shrugs in mock indifference.

"Well, you're going to have to, I'm afraid. You see, I don't have any change." His dark eyes bore into hers, daring her to challenge him.

But if it's one person Richelle knows (knew) well, it is Nick Kontellis. And if there's one person who is willing to challenge him, it is her.

Liz is still staring at her from the popcorn cart. It is very off-putting.

Richelle glares at her and motions for her to go away. Reluctantly, Liz heads off towards the jumping castle, a large box of popcorn in her arms.

Turning back to the boy currently standing in front of her, Richelle crosses her arms defiantly over her chest.

Nick just continues to grin.

"You know, for someone in charge of the Kissing Booth, I haven't seen you kiss anyone all day," he teases. He is riling her up, Richelle knows.

"Well, don't think I'll be breaking that habit any time soon, Kontellis," she snaps, pushing away his money, "So why don't you take you and your hundred dollars to spend somewhere else. I hear the archery range is in need of a new target." _Ooh, feisty_.

Nick glares at her, unamused. Stepping around the wooden partition of the booth, he deliberately slips the hundred dollar bill into her collection jar, not taking his eyes off her the entire time.

For a while they just stand there, the both of them, eyes narrowed at each other and the air between them tense and charged with something Richelle cannot put her finger on.

It is not that she really doesn't want to kiss Nick – anyone with a pair of eyes could tell that he was good-looking. But her refusal lies somewhere in his insistence that she take his money, and–

She sighs.

"Nick, you don't have to resort to _paying_ me to get me to kiss you." The truth, laid bare for his eyes to see.

Peeking up at him from underneath her eyelashes, she is not surprised to see the smug look that flickers across his face for a split second. Of course he'd be smug; she had just admitted that she'd kiss him without any sort of provocation.

However, Richelle is surprised when his smug grin turns into a look of... Fondness? Affection?

She doesn't really have time to ponder his expression because suddenly his face is inches from her own; before she knows it, their lips have grazed hesitantly and for a second Richelle swears she can feel the air crackle with electricity.

It is just a small kiss, barely a second long, and merely a taste of what could be. But as Nick goes to pull away, eyes cautious and warily gauging her reaction, Richelle grabs hold of his jacket lapels and tugs his mouth back down to hers.

And they kiss then, really kiss this time. Fervent and aggressive and far-too-passionate for a first kiss, let alone a kiss in public, but Richelle cannot bring herself to care. Because it's _Nick_, her best friend Nick, and she's never really noticed until now, but his arms fit perfectly around her waist and he is just the right height for her to lean up into.

When they break apart, Nick grins at her with not a trace of smugness for once.

"I'm glad you're not taking my money. Because all the hundred dollar bills in the world would never be enough to pay for that kiss."

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Affinities are funny things. They can be worn down, broken and more often than not, most are severed by the time both parties reach a certain age or crossroads that the other is unable to follow.

But what most people don't bother to understand about affinities is that given a little bit of time and effort on both parts, they can be mended, re-established – and every so often, that mended affinity is even stronger than the first.

After that fateful kiss, Richelle and Nick mend their tie of affinity to each other, small moments stolen between cramming for final exams and filling out college application after college application.

By Christmas that same year they tentatively begin a relationship, and within the first month of the commitment, there are tears and screams and vases being broken.

But there are also those long-familiar lunch dates at the Black Cat, holding hands for the first time, and I-love-you's that suddenly take on a whole different meaning.

By the time her eighteenth birthday rolls around, Richelle is sure she has never been at a better place in her life, at least where her relationship with her best friend is concerned.

Because they've made it, the two of them: through the tears, the drunken messes, Teen Power Inc., and one searing, eye-opening, and very-expensive kiss.

And now, more than ever, Richelle Brinkley liked to think that she knew Nick Kontellis; maybe even better than he knew himself.

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**AN: You may see more of me in the future, I don't know at this point. Thank-you for reading.**

**Much love,**

**RichelleBrinkley xx**


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